


Relax

by Alphinss



Series: Fictober [4]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Fictober, Identity Reveal, M/M, Pre-Slash, Revelations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 20:39:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16182779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alphinss/pseuds/Alphinss
Summary: Will just wanted a therapy session. Why did Hannibal Lecter have to be like this?Written for #fictober18 day 4





	Relax

“How exactly is this productive, Doctor Lecter?” Will asked. He found himself lying awkwardly on the chaise lounge that occupied one wall of Doctor Lecter’s study. It was a new technique, he was told. It was, therapeutic. Will wanted to scoff.

“Why do you think that it won’t help, dear William?” The ever unreadable doctor, turning Will’s uncomfortable questions into a more philosophical debate.

Will paused. He wished he could cover himself. He felt exposed.

“Laid out, naked. A pig for slaughter. A lamb who willingly walked into the wolf’s den.” Will’s tone was flat.

“You feel I am the wolf? The one to watch as the blood drips to the floor?”

“No.” Will’s tone was decisive. “You’re the cutter. The one with the knife in hand, blood on his fingers, under his nails.” Will paused. Words were forcing their way onto his tongue.

“Between his teeth” Will whispered.

There was a pause. It was thoughtful. It was lingering.

“I rip the flesh from their bones?” Hannibal finally broke the silence.

“No. Not ripping. Too ugly, too imprecise. A knife” Will breathed, his mind was foggy and clear at the same time.“A scalpel,” he looked deeper. “The cuts are precise. The blood drips in patterns.”

“What patterns?” Hannibal had leaned forward in his seat. Will had sunk into his. His eyes had, at some point, flickered shut. He could almost see it. He was almost there.

“What patterns?” Hannibal’s voice was slightly rough. His body tense through the syllables. He sounded on the verge of desperate.

“Birth. Creation” Will paused “Beauty”

Hannibal’s breathing was faster. His fingers curled into his palms; sharp nails that nearly drew blood. His maroon eyes wide and expectant. His legs straightened. He towered above Will’s prone form.

“Beauty?” Hannibal pushed. He was staring at the mop of brown hair, at the nearly serene look on Will’s face. It was over in a blink.

Will’s eyes shot open. He saw. He saw it. He saw it all. There he was, standing before him. Beautiful.

Will was from the position in a second. He was on his feet.

“Tragically radiant.” Will looked directly into the eyes of the man before him.

He knew who he was. He could see who he was. He knew exactly who he was looking at. In some twisted way, he realised that he had always known.

“Tragic?” was the only word that Hannibal added.

“No one sees the beauty within the beast.”

“Do you?”

“Yes”


End file.
